


Don't You Wish On Me

by Myrtle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: A little angst, Book: Fire and Blood, F/M, Pregnancy, Touch Aversion, a little fluff, it's Aegon III of course there's angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24871678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrtle/pseuds/Myrtle
Summary: The stars are very, very clear tonight, sharp bright pinpricks against the deep navy of the sky. Daenaera looks at them, and feels suddenly that they have far too much to tell her. The future, the past, the gods, the dead—she wants none of it. She closes her eyes against them, and the world contracts to her body, to things that are immune to the distant stars and her distant husband.Daenaera and Aegon share a sleepless night under the stars.
Relationships: Aegon III Targaryen/Daenaera Velaryon
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Don't You Wish On Me

**Author's Note:**

> I finally read F&B and I can't stop thinking about these two, help. 
> 
> Title is from "Stars" by fun.

They have been married ten years, but sometimes Daenaera feels like she hardly knows her husband.

For instance, she never would have guessed he had any interest in astronomy. And yet here he is, for the third time in two weeks, standing vigil on the balcony at the hour of the bat, gazing up at the stars as if the answer to all his problems is written amongst them, totally unaware of his wife watching from their shared solar. 

She already knew he sleeps poorly—or at least, has been told so. He used it as an excuse, the first time they laid together some eight moons ago, when he asked her to return to her own chambers after.

(That must have been as excruciatingly awkward for him as it was for her, for after that he always came to her, so he could make his escape as soon as they were finished. Of course, it’s a moot point now anyway, for Aegon ceased lying with her as soon as he got her with child, even as he permitted her to move from her chambers down the hall to the ones adjoining his.)

In any case, she is, in a strange sort of way, glad to learn that his insomnia was not an invented excuse. _Not that it’s a surprise. Gods know he has plenty of fodder for nightmares._

For her part, Daenaera normally sleeps soundly. But these last few weeks, as she enters the sixth moon of her pregnancy, it is becoming more and more difficult to get comfortable in bed. Three times now, finding herself still hopelessly awake and restless in the middle of the night, she has made her way to the solar, thinking she might sit on the couch or step out for a bit of fresh air. And three times now, she has found Aegon on the balcony, looking like a gilded statue.

The first two times, she quietly returned to her own bedchamber, lit a candle, and sat in bed reading until she was able to sleep. She has learned that for Aegon, solitude is less a preference than a deep need, so she is hesitant to disturb him.

But now, she thinks that three times is enough to form a pattern. Perhaps he has a genuine interest in the stars. And an interest can be the basis for a connection, which she wishes for more and more desperately as the birth of their child approaches. After all, didn’t she propose that she move into the chambers adjoining his for that very reason? _It would be good to have a shared solar when the babe comes,_ she told him when she was first with child. _To breakfast and pass the evenings in. So we might spend time together, as a family._ Aegon went a bit pale at the prospect, but at Viserys’s urging he agreed.

None of that was false, but she kept her truest thoughts to herself: _A man and wife ought to share their space, as they share their lives. As they share their hopes and dreams, their secrets and sorrows. As they share their hearts. Can you not give me at least the first of those?_

When Daenaera was a child, she thought she would come to share Aegon’s heart just by being his queen, by loving him and accepting his love in return. Now, she is not so sure. But if it is ever to happen, they must start somewhere. Sharing a sleepless night under the stars seems as good a start as any.

Feeling bold, she opens the door, intentionally making a bit of noise to announce her presence, and steps onto the balcony. The stone is cool against her bare feet.

Aegon turns to see her. “My lady,” he says with a courteous little nod. “It is very late.”

“Yes—I couldn’t sleep. It gets uncomfortable, you know,” she says, indicating the swell of her stomach.

Aegon’s brow furrows. “Are you unwell? Shall I send for a maester?”

“Oh no, I’m quite alright. I just thought some fresh air might be nice. Please, don’t let me disturb you.”

He nods and returns his gaze to the sky. It is a glorious night, with perfectly clear skies and a nearly full moon. King’s Landing is quiet enough to pretend things are peaceful under the deep shadows that mask its alleys. Though officially it’s still summer, there’s a slight autumn breeze, making it just cool enough to be perfectly comfortable at this hour.

More comfortable, in fact, than it was indoors, though not enough to dispel the discomfort Daenaera’s body brings her these days. She shifts her weight between her feet, and finds that it doesn’t help much.

The breath she expels is perhaps louder than she intended, because Aegon turns to see her rubbing at the small of her back. 

“Oh, do you want to sit?” he says. “You should sit.”

“I’m alright,” she tries with a thin smile. She doesn’t want to go back inside; she wants to spend time with her husband.

It must not be very convincing, because Aegon just looks at her for a moment, then shakes his head and goes inside. Daenaera watches as he selects a small side chair and brings it out, admiring the graceful, efficient way he moves.

He sets the chair behind her, staying close and watching as she lowers herself into it with a grateful sigh.

“Better?”

She smiles at him. “Yes, my lord. Thank you.”

He responds with a curt nod, then stands there awkwardly, seemingly not knowing what to do with himself. After a few moments he returns to his post at the railing, gazing up at the night sky once more.

Daenaera takes in his profile, enjoying the view. He cuts a dramatic figure with his tall, lean form and simple black clothing _(Not nightclothes—did he not even try to go to sleep?),_ his pale skin almost glowing in the moonlight, his hair, even lighter, shining as only the hair of a full-blooded Targaryen can. It almost pains her, his beauty, how drawn she is to him, how much she longs to be close to him. But he is far away, up in the heavens. 

She wonders what he is seeing up there. The figures of the Seven, marking out their paths through the sky? The future? The past, with all its dead, all its ghosts?

Nothing?

No—it cannot be nothing. There must be something to it, something, _anything,_ that can give her a way in.

“Are you fond of stargazing, my lord?” she asks quietly.

He shrugs. “It is something to do.”

The little hope that she had allowed to spark inside her stills at that, but she presses on. “The library at Driftmark had a wonderful book on the stars. It listed all the constellations and their meanings, with beautiful diagrams for each. I remember Lady Baela used to read to me from it when I was her ward, and showed me the constellations my father and Lord Alyn followed on their journeys.” She smiles, recalling those days she spent at Driftmark before coming to King’s Landing; despite the recent loss of her parents, she loved Baela and Alyn, though in truth they were more like a pair of wild older siblings than substitute parents.

“ _The Movements and Meanings of the Heavenly Bodies,_ I think it was called, by…oh, some Archmaester, who can keep them all straight?” Aegon does not react to the little jape. “Perhaps you would find it interesting—Grand Maester Munkun may be able to dig it up. Or I could send for Driftmark’s copy?”

He glances at her. “If it would please you, my lady,” he says mildly, as if she is asking whether she should add salt to her pease. As if it makes no difference to him at all.

“I hoped it might please _you,_ my lord,” she says with a clear tone of rebuke. She never speaks to him like that, but—it is so _frustrating,_ running up against this brick wall of his courtesy all the time. 

There is stony silence for a moment. Then Aegon leans his head back, eyes closed, and sighs. She can see his hands clenching on the railing. “I am sorry. If you wish me to read it, I will read it. But…truthfully, I cannot say that it would please me.”

“Does anything?”

Gods. Why would she say such a thing? She knows the answer. Does she truly want to hear it?

For a long time, nothing happens. The silence stretches out, large as the gulf between them.

Finally, Aegon turns and faces her, though his eyes do not quite meet hers.

“I…I’m sorry,” he says, barely above a whisper. It is not really an answer to her question, but at least it is honest. He looks like a wounded child, and Daenaera’s heart clenches up. She does not mean to hurt him, she doesn’t, but what else can she do?

“I know,” she says quietly. Their eyes meet, just for a moment, before Aegon’s gaze flinches away. He turns back to the railing, but now he looks down.

It takes every bit of self-control Daenaera has to not sigh aloud. _Well. I tried._

She does not speak further—there is nothing to say—but her disappointment simmers inside her, a hot presence with no outlet. She shifts a bit in the chair, trying to get more comfortable. A breeze whips her nightshift about her calves. Aegon is as white and still as the moon.

The stars are very, very clear tonight, sharp bright pinpricks against the deep navy of the sky. Daenaera looks at them, and feels suddenly that they have far too much to tell her. The future, the past, the gods, the dead—she wants none of it. She closes her eyes against them, and the world contracts to her body, to things that are immune to the distant stars and her distant husband, things that are _here_ and _now:_ the growing weight nestled between her hips, the expansion and contraction as she breathes, the swell of her stomach as she runs her hands over it…

Then she feels the babe move. She’s been feeling it for a few weeks now, little flutters deep in her belly, but this is different—this is a _kick,_ strong enough that she can feel it from the outside through her hand.

She gasps, and Aegon is beside her in an instant. “What?” he says, pale and urgent. “Are you alright?”

In that moment, she is reminded of how when she was poisoned, Aegon sat with her all through that awful night, smoothing her hair back as she retched and bringing her cups of water. How during the siege, he quietly explained to her what was going on, holding her hand as she cried, and insisted on giving her half his rations. And—she cannot resent the Aegon who did those things, who is looking at her now with such concern.

Her irritation melts away, and she smiles, a little breathless. “Yes, yes. It’s just the babe—it’s moving.”

The relief comes off him in waves. “The first time?”

“No, but—the strongest so far, easily. Real kicks. I can even feel it from the outside.” _Do not push him. Do not suggest anything. Just give him the opportunity._

He kneels beside her and raises his hand very tentatively. His eyes are pure black in the half-light. “May I?”

“Please.”

And then he reaches out, full of hesitation. With infinite slowness, his hand comes to rest on her stomach.

It is the first time her husband has touched her during her pregnancy.

(She does not understand why people say he is cold. He is a Targaryen; every part of him _radiates_ heat. Even through her nightshift.)

((She knows heat is not the same thing as warmth. But still.))

A moment later, Aegon inhales sharply when the babe kicks right under his hand. And then kicks again. And again. This does not surprise her; she has no doubt the babe can feel his hand through her.

“It’s an energetic little thing, isn’t it?” she says.

He looks up at her and nods, and she has never seen such a mixture of terror and awe.

He is so beautiful, and the night so peaceful and clear, that she cannot resist taking a little risk. Her hand is still resting on her belly as well, and she starts moving it toward his, slowly. When he looks down and notices, she searches his face for any sign of discomfort, any desire to move away, but she cannot see any, so she keeps going. Finally, gently, gently, she lays her hand on top of his, and applies the slightest pressure, holding his hand against her.

He closes his eyes at the touch and looks almost pained, and she thinks, _Gods, I am a fool._ But then, ever so slowly, he lets out a breath and his face relaxes. When he opens his eyes, he looks right at her, deadly serious.

They remain like that, breathing quietly, for a few moments, while the babe continues to make its presence known. Daenaera lets her thumb move against Aegon’s, caressing lightly.

Then, all at once, Aegon leans over and captures her mouth with his.

He has never before kissed her outside of when they are lying together, and at first she is so astonished she does not react. But after a moment her desire wakes in her and she kisses him back eagerly, desperately, and he lets out a little moan and it is so _hungry._ She loves the way he kisses, slow and deliberate and powerful, but it is not enough, not nearly enough. She would like nothing more than to reach up and cup the back of his head, pull him in close to her, keep him there until she has had her fill.

No—in truth, she would like nothing more than for him to embrace her, press his body against hers, hot and needy, and take her, right here and now.

But that is not the man she’s married to, so instead she savors what she has, kissing her husband slowly in the cool summer night, their hands layered together over their child.

They are not looking up at the stars, now. But the stars are looking down at them. She can only hope they give their blessing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, a comment or kudos would make me very happy!


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